The Darkness before Christmas
by ecv
Summary: Sometimes, the nightmares are just too real.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I promise it ends well. But it will take us four or five chapters to get there. As usual, I do not own Bones._

 _Happy Holidays everyone!_

Booth opened his eyes to a scene that was familiar, but unexpected. He was back in his old apartment, the one he'd lived in before he and Bones were a couple. He rubbed his hand over his eyes, confused by what he was seeing. How did he end up back here? Had there been an accident at the other house? And how was this exact apartment still available?

Rolling over to his side, he reached for Bones, only to find her side of the bed empty. He ran his hand over the spot to find that it was cool, indicating she had left the bed some time ago. She wasn't in the bedroom with him, as far as he could tell.

Sitting up, he shoved his feet into a pair of slippers he was sure he'd thrown out years ago. The holes in the bottoms were gone and they didn't have the stain on the top where he'd spilled coffee on them. He'd been kissing Bones and hadn't been paying attention to the cup he was carrying. Something that was pretty easy to do when he kissed the woman he loved.

He was tempted to call out, but instinct told him to remain quiet. Booth wasn't sure what was going on, but until he was, he didn't want to call any attention to himself.

Noises of pots and pans banging together came from the kitchen, and Booth looked back toward the nightstand where his gun sat. He desperately wanted to grab it, but assumed that if he'd been kidnapped, he probably wasn't being held captive in his old apartment. And besides, what deranged kidnapper would know about his slippers and provide them to him?

Dreams weren't usually this vivid. He'd had nightmares before that felt real, but they still had that ethereal quality to them. This dream had weight, substance that no dream had ever had before.

It felt real, was real as far as he could tell. Bones would tell him he was crazy, that dreams were never real, no matter what they felt like. But this was like stepping into an alternate reality, rather than just a dream.

Someone was humming Christmas music in the kitchen. Even with the door closed, he could hear them. And it wasn't Bones. Bones had a lovely singing voice that she shared with very few people. Booth considered himself lucky that he got to hear her sing frequently to their children, and sometimes in the shower when she thought no one was listening. This…woman, whoever she was, didn't have Bones' voice, and Booth's pulse went up another notch.

What could possibly be going on here? When he went to bed last night, he lay next to Bones, staring at the Christmas tree in the living room through the glass wall. They'd left the lights on because it was the eve of Christmas Eve, and Booth's excitement for the big day almost matched that of his children. Now, on Christmas Eve morning, he was in his old apartment, Bones nowhere to be found.

And his children. Where were they?

Had he had too much to drink? He didn't remember overindulging, but Hodgins and Angela had been over to join them last night. Had Hodgins spiked the drinks with some crazy concoction he'd invented in the lab? It wouldn't be the first time he'd served them some crazy liquor without telling them. However, most of the time, Hodgins came clean rather quickly and none of it had ever been potent enough to cause this kind of reaction.

Because it had to be a reaction, right? None of this was real. It couldn't be. He was married to Bones and had two kids, Christine and Hank. They still worked their respective jobs and Aubrey had been his partner since the death of Sweets, an event that still made him catch his breath. None of what he was experiencing right at that moment should even be possible.

A feeling of dread was fighting its way to the surface and Booth could't stomp it back down. What the hell was going on here?

Slow, quiet steps brought him to the closed bedroom door. He twisted the knob, pulling it open. When it had cleared the frame, he put his eye to the crack and peered into the living room.

The couch was visible. The one Bones had slept on the night her intern was killed. The night she'd joined him in his bed and they'd begun a new chapter in their lives. A chapter that had led to marriage and children and Christmas trees in their living room.

But now, there was no tree. No sign that it was almost Christmas. How could he let Christmas approach and not get a tree? No sign that Bones or the children were in the apartment, or had ever been in the apartment. But there was definitely someone else there and they were definitely in the kitchen.

This time, he didn't fight the urge to go back for his gun. Holding it loosely at his side, he opened the door wider and cautiously entered the living room. Now, he could clearly see the woman standing at the counter.

He rubbed a hand across his chest, recognition making it ache. She had no right being in his apartment. No right to any part of his life anymore.

Before he could say a word, she turned, greeting him with a chagrined smile. She didn't look guilty. In fact, she looked at him as if she was right where she belonged.

Which scared the hell out of him.

"Good morning, Seeley," she said. "I tried to make you breakfast, but you can see it isn't going so well." His familiar intruder waved her hand to indicate the mess of pans and debris strewn about the counter.

Booth didn't raise the gun, but he didn't set it down, either. Obviously, at some point, this woman had experienced a mental breakdown. He didn't want to be too far away from his weapon until he knew exactly how dangerous she was.

"Hannah," he said, his voice betraying nothing. "What are you doing here?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Ha, ha, very funny, Seeley," she said. Turning back around she made an attempt at flipping the pancakes cooking in the pan. She managed to turn one successfully, the other falling into a heap on the stove.

"Damn," she muttered, trying to retrieve it. "You know," she said over her shoulder, "you could come help me."

Booth made no move to approach her. "What are you doing here?" he asked again.

This time when she answered, her voice was annoyed. "I don't know why you keep asking me that. I live here, remember? I told you I wasn't leaving for my next assignment until tomorrow. I thought we could spend time together before I left. You always complain that I don't make time for you when I'm home."

Reaching up, she turned the burner off with a click that echoed in the silent apartment. Sliding the pan off the heat, she turned and rested her back against the counter. "I thought you would be happy I was making breakfast." Her face took on a pout she thought Booth would find sexy.

Without thinking, he motioned with the hand still holding the gun. "You don't live here, Hannah. And I sure as hell don't live here."

Her eyes widened at the sight of him holding the gun. "What's your problem, Seeley? We've always lived here."

Looking down at the gun and back at her, Booth tried to make sense of the situation. Was Hannah the one that was confused? Or was he? Had he hit his head or fallen into another coma?

"We don't live together, Hannah. We broke up after you refused my proposal." That had happened, right? Around Valentine's Day? It was the end for them and the start for him and Bones.

Booth was so confused. This wasn't just a dream; it was a full-blown nightmare. There were sights, sounds, and smells that told him nothing about this was imagined. But even for a superstitious man, Booth wasn't one to believe you fell asleep and woke up in a different reality.

Hannah shook her head. "Did you take some sort of pain medication that you shouldn't have? You always react so weirdly to that stuff."

She approached him slowly, wary of the gun. Lifting her left hand, she wiggled her fingers in front of his face. "I didn't turn down your proposal, Seeley." On her finger was the expensive diamond, purchased in a moment of panic when he realized that he was never going to be able to walk away from Bones. It had been a last desperate act to prove that he could move on.

He'd known Hannah wasn't the marrying kind. Subconsciously, he'd counted on it.

"I accepted your proposal. We've been married almost five years now." Her eyes filled with concern, Hannah reached up to brush her fingers across his face, but let her hand drop when he stepped back. "Don't you remember?"

Of course he didn't remember, because it didn't happen. She'd turned him down and he'd tossed the ring into the water at the reflecting pool. He hadn't seen her or talked to her since she'd walked away from him that night.

But now here she was, in an apartment he hadn't seen the inside of in years. The black rotary phone she'd given him was sitting on the stand. Her purse was on the counter. And despite the terror her words were causing, they certainly had the ring of truth to them.

"You accepted my proposal?" he repeated.

"Yes, Seeley," she said patiently. It was apparent something was wrong with him and the gun was making her very nervous, so she decided to just go along with whatever was happening. Tomorrow, she'd be back on a plane to Turkey and that would give her time to decide if this relationship was something she really wanted to continue. Even though she was pretty sure she didn't want to.

So, if Seeley wanted to act like he'd lost his mind for the day, let him. She'd dealt with worse.

There was that little issue of the brain tumor that had occurred in the past. He'd told her about it one night, not long after they were married. Maybe, after she was safely away, she'd let one of his friends know what was going on, just in case. She didn't necessarily want him to die a horrible death. Hannah just wasn't sure she wanted to be married to him anymore.

"And we got married?" he said, looking around the apartment. "Are there pictures or something?" Maybe if he saw actual proof of what she was claiming, he would begin to understand what was happening to him.

And begin to understand where Bones and his children had disappeared to.

"No pictures," Hannah answered, turning away to begin cleaning up the mess. "We eloped a few weeks after you gave me the ring. Said you didn't want to wait." Hannah sighed, remembering how it had felt at the time. "It was really quite romantic."

But the romance was long gone from their relationship. Nothing had been the same since the incident six months after their marriage. Booth was distant and had been for some time.

That distance had led her to take more and more assignments outside the country. This was the first time she'd been home for more than one night in six months.

This time, she'd made it three nights before calling and begging for another assignment. It was clear that whatever they'd felt for each other had died a long time ago.

Seeley, being the man he was, would never end their marriage. So it was going to be up to her to cut the cord and force the issue.

She'd planned on discussing it with him this morning over pancakes. But the mental breakdown and the gun had her throwing those plans out the window. After she landed in Turkey she'd call a lawyer and get divorce proceedings started.

She dealt with enough craziness in her job. She wasn't coming home to it.

Booth watched Hannah clean up his kitchen. He didn't move to help, just continued to watch her with a confused expression on his face.

"Do I work at the FBI?" he finally asked. "What day is today?"

She turned slowly back toward him. "You're starting to really scare me, Seeley." Hannah wanted to turn back and finish cleaning up the breakfast that wasn't going to happen, but she was afraid to turn her back on the man behind her.

Booth waved the hand with the gun in it again. "Just answer the questions, Hannah."

She bit her lip and nodded. He didn't appear to even realize he still held the gun. "Yes, you work at the FBI. And today is Thursday, December twenty-forth, Christmas Eve."

So the date was still the same. It just seemed Booth had fallen into a rabbit hole with no clear way out. But he had no doubt in his mind he would figure all this out.

Noticing the gun, he made sure the safety was on, but didn't set it down. One of the people in this room had lost his or her mind and he was pretty sure it wasn't him.

"Where is the Christmas tree?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Don't ask me. You're the one who stays here all the time. I don't."

The whole thing didn't have the fuzzy quality of a dream. It felt solid and real. HIs heart pounded in his chest and he could feel the gun in his fist. But there was no way any of this was real.

Wake up! Wake up! He had to wake up.

"Where's Bones?" he asked as Hannah finished cleaning his kitchen and turned back toward him. Booth could see the fear in her eyes and wondered what had put it there. Was she afraid of him or for him?

Her eyes clouded over and she shook her head. "Bones? You mean Temperance? I think that's the first time you've said her name in almost a year."

What? He hadn't said her name in a year? If he still worked at the FBI, then he assumed Bones was still his partner. There was no way that partnership had been severed. He simply wouldn't allow it to happen.

"And my children? Where are my children?"

"Where is your child?" she clarified. "We haven't had kids, Booth, and Parker is in London with his mother. He'll be home in a couple days to spend time with you for the holiday."

"Of course, _we_ didn't have children," Booth snapped. "I had children with Bones. Two of them."

Hannah lifted her eyebrows in shock. There was something he'd never shared with her. She hadn't even been aware Booth and his former partner had been intimate, say nothing about having two children together. "Where are those children supposed to be?"

Booth began to pace back and forth. "I'm assuming they're with Bones. When was the last time I saw them?"

This time, when he met Hannah's eyes, he recognized the look in them. Pity. For whatever reason, she pitied him.

"Stop," he demanded, using his free hand to rub the bridge of his nose. "I didn't marry you, I married Bones. I had two children with her. You went back to being a war correspondent. That was how it happened and this is just a nightmare."

"Well at least you got something right," Hannah mumbled, reaching for her keys. She wasn't sure how she felt about him referring to their life together as nothing but a nightmare. Sure, it hadn't always been great, but there had been some good times.

"Which part?" he demanded. "Which part did I get right?"

Hannah twirled the keys in her hand as she watched him. The gun didn't scare her anymore. What she saw was a pathetic, confused man. As soon as she got out of the apartment, she'd call his friend Cam from the Jeffersonian. She could figure all this out.

"The part about me being a war correspondent. That's what you got right." Hannah considered her options and made a decision. "Listen, I'll take you to see Temperance, if you promise I only have to drop you off."

Narrowing his eyes, Booth watched her. "You know where she is?"

Nodding slowly, Hannah reached for her purse. "I'll take you. But you're not going to like it."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I apologize in advance for this chapter, but sometimes you just have to go where the story takes you. I promise (x1000) that the next chapter, which is also the last, is much happier than this one, if you decide to stick with me._

 _Thanks for reading._

Booth tapped his foot nervously, trying to determine where Hannah was taking him. It was obvious from the way she was acting around him that she thought he was crazy, but Booth didn't care. He wasn't crazy and none of this was real. No one and nothing would convince him otherwise.

He returned to the bedroom before leaving to change into one of the suits hanging in the closet. They were his size, but the socks were plain black. Where had all his crazy striped socks gone?

They were almost an hour outside of Washington when she finally turned off the interstate. Booth looked sideways at her, not sure she was actually following through on what she'd promised.

"Bones lives out here?' he asked, staring out the window. It certainly didn't seem like a place that would interest her, or him for that matter. But then again, nothing had been normal since he'd woken that morning.

Hannah didn't take her eyes from the road. "You really don't remember, do you?" she asked gently. "This isn't some act to make sure I never come home again."

The gun was no longer in his hand, but it was hooked securely at his waist. She wondered if he would use it when he learned the truth. And if he did, who he would use it on.

"When I closed my eyes last night I was home with Bones and the children. When I woke this morning, I was with you." His voice made it very clear which option he preferred.

"When you closed your eyes last night, you were laying next to me in bed," she corrected. "It was exactly where you woke up this morning."

Booth nodded, but didn't argue. There was a niggling sensation in the back of his skull that made him wonder if she was right. Had none of what he remembered about he and Bones actually happened? And if it hadn't, why couldn't be remember the last five years with Hannah?

"Seeley," Hannah began, sighing after she said his name. "I think I should tell you what happened to Temperance before we get to where we're going. I think waiting until we get there to find out is not going to go well for you."

The tone of her voice had him clenching his hands into fists in his lap. Something was very clearly wrong, not just with this situation, but Bones as well. "Are we still partners?" he asked.

"No, Seeley. You haven't been partners since six months after we married."

He turned hate filled eyes toward her. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, but gave no other outward sign of her fear. "Why aren't we partners?"

It was clear from his look and tone of voice that he thought Hannah was the reason for that separation. And she may of been. Lord knew, most everyone who knew and loved Temperance had blamed her for what happened.

In the darkness of night, when there was nowhere to hide, Hannah found it hard not to blame herself, too.

Realizing that being in an enclosed space for this story was a bad idea, Hannah flipped on her signal and pulled over on the side of the road. She could see their destination in the distance, but Seeley apparently didn't realize it.

"There was a sniper," she said, exiting the car. She stayed on the driver's side, waling for him to exit the vehicle. He finally did, and looked at her over the roof.

"Jacob Broadsky," he said suddenly. "He killed one of Bones' interns." Apparently, there were a whole bunch of things that were the same, no matter what reality he was in.

Closing her eyes against the sudden pain of remembering, Hannah continued to speak without opening them. She couldn't watch his face when he learned the truth for the second time. "Maybe, in your reality. In this reality, you weren't at work that day. You were home, with me. The sniper hit exactly who he was aiming for."

Her eyes flew open at the sound of a fist hitting the car roof. Despite the anger, she didn't stop talking. Like a band-aid, right? Just rip it off and be done with it.

"The sniper hit Temperance in the lab. She died on the floor." Her voice was flat and emotionless. It was the only way she could tell this story without falling apart. She'd never seen anyone deal with the amount of grief Seeley had felt for his partner and survive it. He hadn't been the same man since that day.

It was the beginning of the end for the two of them. It was pretty clear at that moment he was still in love with Temperance and Hannah had been a poor replacement. She'd flown out immediately after the funeral and hadn't come back for several months. As first the months and then the years passed, her and Seeley's time together grew shorter and shorter.

"She's buried there, just up the road," Hannah finished, turning to point at the cemetery barely visible in the distance.

Booth slammed his hand again and again on the roof of the car, until a dent began to appear. "I'm sorry, Seeley," she said when he paused to take a deep breath. "I'm sorry you have to relive this."

"Where was the security? Why did I leave her alone?" he cried, agony clear in his voice. "How could I have let this happen?"

"I'll take you to her grave," Hannah offered, not answering his questions. There were no answers to give that would satisfy him. "I'll take you and leave you there because I'm not coming back this time, Seeley."

Booth didn't appear to hear her. He stared over his shoulder in the direction she'd indicated. "No," he said finally. "You can go. I'll go up there myself."

He had to see for himself. See if what she believed was true. Except he knew it was. No matter what Hannah had been, she'd never been cruel. She wouldn't tell him something like this if it wasn't true.

But why couldn't he remember? Had he really fabricated the last five years of his life? Was he suffering some sort of mental breakdown that wouldn't allow him to accept the truth? Was it because Christmas was almost here, and the strain of losing her had finally become too much?

Was Sweets still alive in this reality? If he was, maybe the shrink could explain to it him. Diagnose him with something with a fancy name. Let him go back to the life he'd lived with Bones.

Even if it was only in his imagination.

He stepped back from the car, watching as Hannah drove away. He gave a fleeting thought to whether or not she would call someone to come for him. Obviously, in her mind, he was damaged, but it wasn't enough to make her stay. Not that he wanted her to. Still, if they had loved each other enough to get married, wouldn't she want to stick around long enough to make sure he wasn't going to hurt himself?

Heavy steps carried him toward the cemetery. He both dreaded and needed to see what Hannah assured him was there. Bones' grave. A headstone with her name on it.

Which meant that his children with her never existed either. So he was going to have to mourn the woman he'd loved more than anyone else, and the children he was sure they'd had, but didn't actually exist in this reality.

The cemetery was small and isolated. Only one car passed him as he made his way toward it. Booth wondered what they thought about a lone man in a suit walking up the road. Of course, given his direction of travel, they might not have questioned it at all. Lots of people went to cemeteries dressed in all sorts of ways. They would simply assume he was there to mourn someone he'd lost.

Which is why he was there, wasn't it? But why couldn't he remember? Or wake up? Because he was still convinced this had to be some sort of alcohol fueled nightmare. Bones had tried to explain some new theory about time to him one night. Maybe he'd fallen into one of those theories he hadn't really listened to.

It was peaceful there. Some headstones were clearly old; the dates long worn away by rain and the passage of time. Booth knew she would like being with history. He wondered if she was actually buried there. She seemed like the type who would donate her body to science. But Angela would have made sure there was at least a headstone with her name on it. A place for her friends to mourn and remember.

Booth didn't have any trouble locating it. When he arrived, it was if his feet knew the destination. Suddenly, this seemed more familiar to him, his other reality with her as his wife more distant. It scared him. He would rather live in that reality, not this one. He wanted nothing to do with this time or place.

It was a plain stone with just her name and the dates. Nothing to indicate how special she was. Nothing to indicate that the world was not a good place without her. That his world had ended surely ended with her death.

In this reality, he was apparently alive, but the lack of a Christmas tree in his apartment indicated he no longer really lived. Not without her.

"Hey, baby," he said, kneeling in front of the stone. He placed a shaking hand on it, both to pretend he could touch her and to keep himself from collapsing fully. The morning dew soaked through the knees of his suit, but he paid no attention to it. He wasn't ever going to need it again, anyway.

He wasn't surprised to feel the tears on his cheek. The grief was as fresh as he imagined it would have been five years ago. No wonder he had forgotten this.

It hurt too damn much to remember.

"I imagined a whole life for us, apparently," he said, a humorless laugh following the words. "We had kids and a family and it was perfect."

That life seemed further away with each passing second. The other memories wanted to surface. The ones where she died and he'd killed Jacob in a fit of rage. The ones where Hannah left and he didn't try to win her back. The fight with Angela because he'd left Brennan alone when she needed him the most.

They were all there, right at the surface, waiting for him to acknowledge them. But he refused. Because they weren't right, they weren't real. The real memories were of laughter and marriage and children, and all the hopes and nightmares that came with that life. That was the life he wanted. Not this one.

"I'm not leaving you again," he said. Turning, he sat on the cool ground, his back against her stone. "I'm staying right here."

Sighing, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He could feel the hard stone behind him and he pushed the sensation away. Dreams didn't have form or substance. And if this wasn't a dream, if he opened his eyes and saw the same scene, well, there was a way to make that disappear, too. "I'll stay right here forever."


	4. Chapter 4

He heard his name from a million miles away. Whoever the voice belonged to was clearly annoyed with him; the tone came through loud and clear despite the perceived distance.

Perhaps Hannah had called someone after abandoning him at the cemetery. Well, Booth didn't want their help. He wasn't leaving. And why did the person have to keep yelling?

Angrily, he waved his hand in the direction of the voice, but refused to open his eyes. Couldn't she see he was trying to die here? Perhaps, hypothermia would set in and he'd just fall asleep against this headstone and never wake up.

Another moment and the voice became clearer. Now, it sounded like Bones. Maybe he'd already died and she found him in heaven? Which would be a shock to her, since she didn't believe in that sort of thing. He, of course, would gloat for a few minutes before enjoying the knowledge they'd get to spend eternity together.

Slowly, he opened his eyes to stare at a familiar ceiling. He was no longer outside and the ceiling looked like it belonged to the house he and Bones currently shared, as opposed to the apartment he'd found himself in with Hannah.

"Oh, thank God," he heard her mutter and Booth was convinced he was still trapped in the nightmare. Because there was no way Bones would thank a God she didn't believe in. Except he believed. Maybe the comment was meant for him somehow? But that didn't make any sense either.

"Booth!" she yelled a little louder and he turned his eyes toward her. He tried to turn his head, but the movement brought an involuntary groan to his lips. What had he done to himself?

"Can you hear me?" she asked. Shaking fingers brushed stray hair from his forehead.

"Yeah," he muttered, trying again to turn his head. This time he was slightly more successful, and was able to turn enough to see her clearly out of both eyes.

Her countenance was calm, but Booth could see past the mask she wore to the tension she was clearly hiding from him. Whatever had happened had been terrifying for both of them.

Swallowing thickly, he licked his dry lips. "What happened?"

Sighing with relief, she sat next to him on the bed. "I've been trying to wake you for twenty-eight minutes. I was getting ready to contact emergency services when you finally opened your eyes."

Booth struggled and attempted to sit up, but Brennan put her hand on his shoulder. "You threw your back out last night trying to move some of the Christmas decorations. Just move slowly."

She looked down at her hand, then toward the night stand next to his bed. "You took pain medication before you fell asleep."

Rising from the bed, she grabbed the bottle, shook it once or twice in her hand, then threw it across the bedroom.

With a little effort, Booth managed to at least rise to a sitting position. He was thankful she'd had enough presence of mind to tell him to move slowly. Anything faster would have sent him into a nightmare of a whole different sort. Raising his eyebrows at her unusual expression of emotion, he tried to find his away around his confusion to ask a coherent question.

So, it had really all been a dream. Or more accurately, a nightmare. Even if he could still smell that breakfast Hannah had been cooking and taste the sorrow that lingered from learning exactly where Bones had disappeared to.

That was one hell of a dream. One he hoped didn't repeat anytime soon.

In fact, never sounded like a better plan.

But she wasn't paying attention to him. She continued to stare at the bottle where it came to rest in the corner of the bedroom. "As long as I live in this house, you won't take that medication again."

Most dreams faded after waking, but this one wasn't following a similar pattern. He clearly remembered Hannah asking if he'd taken pain medication because he reacted weirdly to it. Had his subconscious known what was going on the whole time?

Clues had been there. Questions about medication. The lack of a Christmas tree. Little things, that painted one larger picture.

Brennan turned back toward him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Where did you go?"

Booth widened his eyes. If it was a nightmare, he shouldn't have left the bedroom. "Did I disappear?"  
She shook her head. "You never left physically, but it was clear from what you were muttering, that you were no longer here."

Running his hand through his hair, Booth considered how much to tell her, not wanting to hurt her by mentioning Hannah. But to hold anything back seemed dishonest.

"I went back to the old apartment. Hannah was there. We were married." He paused, trying to find the words to convey how he felt about the whole situation. "It sucked."

"You said her name. Several times."

"Not because I was dreaming anything good, trust me," he grumbled. He turned away from her, as well as he comfortably could, no longer wanting to see the tears. He had his own he wanted to shed.

"I dreamed you were dead," he said softly. "Hannah said yes to the marriage proposal and Broadsky shot you instead. When I closed my eyes, right before I came back, right before you brought me back," he corrected, "I was leaning against your headstone."

His eyes were also bright with tears, but unlike her, his actually slid down his cheeks. He wanted to close his eyes, but the wall behind his back felt a bit too similar to what he'd just left. What would happen if he closed them, only for a moment? Would he open them again and see a cemetery in front of him?

"It sucked," he said again, unable to come up with better words to convey exactly what that nightmare had been like for him.

Knowing the distress her husband was feeling was worse than hers, Brennan came forward and sat gently on the bed. His comfort would always come before her own. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I know how you hate the nightmares that follow that theme."

"When I had that damn coma dream, it was like another world. This had a similar feeling. There were little clues there that things were off, but I couldn't seem to get out. Even though I wanted to."

Memories of the previous evening were clear now. Booth had tried to move some Christmas decorations in the garage, when he'd turned wrong and injured his back. Hodgins and Angela had already left for the evening, leaving Bones to help him to the bedroom.

The last time he'd taken the pain meds, they'd made him a little loopy, but nothing he couldn't handle for a few hours. Besides, it was late in the evening and he figured he'd just sleep through the worst of it. Apparently, this time, sleep had caused the worst of it.

Looking at the orange bottle in the corner, Booth agreed with Bones. It was the last time he'd ever take it again.

Reaching up, Bones turned his face back toward hers. "I wasn't worried that you were enjoying your time with her. It was clear from the tone of your voice that you weren't." She paused, remembering the fear that gripped her when she'd tried to wake him and couldn't.

Brushing at his cheeks to chase away tears, she did the same to her eyes. "You said her name twice, then Broadsky, then you started to shake. You were shivering but your skin was hot. It was then I tried to wake you and could not."

Booth wondered what part of the dream he was in when that reaction had begun. Had it been the moment he learned Bones had died? Or when he rested his head against the stone and prayed death would find him as well?

"Do you remember that movie you made me watch once?" she asked. "The one where a man sees the world as if he was never born?"

Booth snorted. "I remember. You told me it was ridiculous."

"It was. But I think that's what your mind fabricated. A vision of the world if you, or I, or Hannah had made different choices. If Sweets were still alive, he would probably tell you it was something you feared, even if you don't consciously admit it."

Booth considered her answer and thought she was probably right. One different choice, a path not taken, and what he currently had wouldn't exist. Of course, that insight was coming from Bones…

"I thought you didn't believe in psychology?"

"I don't, anymore than I believe in your God. But you believe and I'm willing to use the knowledge if it helps you."

He looked past her, through the glass wall, and into the living room to see the tree standing there. It brought a smile to his lips and helped chase away some of the feelings the dream had brought. But it would be a long time before he rested easily again.

"Where are Hank and Christine?" he asked.

"I called my father when I couldn't wake you. He took the kids to his house, in case I needed to call for emergency assistance. I didn't want them traumatized by it. I'll call him quickly and let him know everything is okay now."

Brown eyes met blue, and in hers he saw nothing but strength and love. Her world was okay again, now that he was awake, and he would work hard to push away the memories of last night. She was still here, they were together, Hank and Christine were real and they all loved each other. He wouldn't let a nightmare impact the sense of fulfillment that knowledge brought him.

With warm hands he pulled her to his side and tucked her tightly against him. "Do you have some time to sit with me awhile?" he asked.

"I'll stay right here, if that's what you need," she promised. "I'll stay here forever."

 _Thanks for reading. Sorry it was so depressing. But it ended well, right?_


End file.
